


Love Songs For Robots

by ottermo



Series: As Prompted [2]
Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 14:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: After his death and resurrection, Leo learns to walk again, with Mia’s help.





	Love Songs For Robots

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I wrote this in May 2016, but never posted it here. 
> 
> I got it in my head to do a series of ficlets based on songs people sent me, but I think this is the only one I actually ended up writing... The song was Patrick Watson’s “Love Songs for Robots”, submitted by Markseposts on tumblr. This is kind of based more on a couple of lyrics than on the title.
> 
> This is my 100th upload to the Humans tag! Woohoo! Here’s to the next 100 ;-)

She was not made in time to see his first steps. There’s a picture, though: a tiny, rosy-cheeked cherub she never knew, arms outstretched for his first mother. Preserved there forever, reaching towards Beatrice.

Mia thinks of that picture now, as she helps Leo stand shakily from his bed, ready to take another set of first steps. This time his legs are longer, and must obey commands from a new master: the digital implant that lies beneath his skin. It has been weeks since the operations stopped. His hair is starting to grow back, little tufts, thicker where there isn’t scarring. He’s only seen his reflection once. He hasn’t asked again.

“I’m right here,” Mia says softly. “Take your time.”

He’s still holding on tight to her arms, and she feels him lean forwards slightly. “I can’t,” he says. “I don’t know how.”

“Don’t think too hard about it,” she says. “It will come to you. You stood up without thinking, didn’t you?”

“You helped me turn round first,” he mumbles.

“You’re going to need a lot of help for a while,” she reminds him, “but that’s all right. You’re learning.”

Leo closes his eyes. His forehead creases in concentration, and Mia smiles, touched by the familiar expression. It’s like he’s working out one of Niska’s formulas, or trying to remember a word Fred taught him. He’s still so much himself.

He goes to move his foot forward, but the other knee buckles under the weight, and Mia holds him upright for a second, before guiding him back down, so he’s sitting on the bed. “Nearly, you nearly did it,” she says encouragingly. “You got your foot to move.”

“Let me try again,” he says, determined. She helps him stand again, and for two more failed attempts at a first step, until finally he manages to move forward.

“I’ve found it,” he says, breathless, as though he might scare his brain away from the new discovery if he speaks too loudly. He takes a second step, a third. Mia feels his grip on her loosen for the fourth and fifth.

“You don’t have to let go yet,” she says. She has a feeling he doesn’t know how much he’s been leaning against her, that he hasn’t really been carrying his whole weight so far. Such as it is. Months of intravenous nutrition have left him thin, and he tires easily even when lying still, talking to Max or practicing his writing.

“I want to try on my own,” he insists, and he lets go of her slowly. Mia moves her arms only inches away, ready to steady him, but he manages to stand quite steadily. “I’m standing,” he says, an odd mixture of pride and shyness. “I’m actually standing up.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to try a step,” Leo murmurs. “Watch me.”

As if she could tear her eyes away, even for a second. “Be careful,” Mia warns. “Don’t rush. It doesn’t matter if you can’t do it today.”

But he’s so determined to try, every feature on his face arranged in careful deliberation. He’s so intent on walking on his own that her heart breaks for him when he starts to crumble, and for a second Mia holds him upright, as if he won’t notice her assistance. But he looks up at her, as though betrayed, and so she just slows the fall, guiding them both down until he’s on the floor, her kneeling in front of him. 

He wipes away the tears that have pooled, angry more than sad, Mia can tell. “Don’t be cross with yourself,” she pleads. “Yesterday you couldn’t even get up. Today you’ve done five steps.”

“Not on my _own_ ,” Leo chokes out. 

“No, not on your own,” she agrees. She shifts one of her hands from his arm to his shoulder, squeezes gently. “I’m not ready to let go of you yet.” 

He gives a tiny puff of air that might be a laugh, might be a sob. “It’s the other way round.” 

“I think it’s both,” Mia says, “but we’ll get there.” 


End file.
